Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Marshall Islands and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Young Marble Giants to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Lakeside. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Joyce Sims,
Todd Rundgren,
ABBA,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Procol Harum,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kool Moe Dee,
June of 44,
Visage,
X-Ray Spex,
The Alarm Clocks,
Deadbeat,
Delta 5,
Index,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fela Kuti,
Gang of Four,
Robert Wyatt,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Slackers,
Sällskapet,
Motorama,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ornette Coleman,
the Human League,
Anakelly,
Supertramp,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
UT,
The Techniques,
Ultravox,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Das Ding,
Malaria!,
Sex Pistols,
Scientists,
Bobbi Humphrey,
H. Thieme,
Echospace,
Bobby Womack,
The Motions,
Grandmaster Flash,
Flash Fearless,
Jacques Brel,
Rotary Connection,
June Days,
John Coltrane,
L. Decosne,
The Sound,
Gastr Del Sol,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bill Wells,
Drive Like Jehu,
La Düsseldorf,
The Last Poets,
Eric Dolphy,
AZ,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Skriet,
Joy Division,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.